Month: July 2026

This coming week marks the 6^th anniversary of scattering my parents’ co-mingled ashes over the Iowa farm where they had lived for 50 years. Seeing the ashes flutter across the corn rows carried by a warm west wind was one of the most precious memories of my life. It reminded me of life on the farm particularly in the summer and the secure world that my parents created for me and my sisters.

I thought that town kids had a better life than me when I was growing up. They didn’t have daily farm chores and were near other kids for opportunities to play. In retrospect, however, I am glad that I grew up on a farm in a rural community. I am particularly reminded of summer evenings when my parents could relax from their usual 15 hour days.

Summer nights were special when neighbors and/or relatives were (usually spontaneously) invited over for dessert and fellowship. For example, my mom made the best apple pie I have ever tasted. I think her secret was the tangy green apples that grew on our big tree in the yard. Plenty of sugar and cinnamon (not other spices) along with a lard-based crust, made those pies delicious. I can make a pretty good apple pie but not as good as mom’s.

Sometimes we had homemade ice cream with the pie or sometimes we just had it by itself. Part of the ritual of eating the ice cream was making it. The cream and sugar had to be slowly churned to incorporate air ensuring that the final product was smooth, light, and creamy. My dad supervised and made sure it was done right!

Watermelon season was a special time in the late summer that also offered an opportunity to get together on summer evenings. It usually included a fun watermelon spitting contest. My uncle always won the contest, and I never figured out his technique for spitting the farthest. Mom reminded us kids, “Don’t eat too much watermelon or you will have to pee all night long.” We didn’t pay much attention to her warnings.

Summer evenings also meant fireflies, or lightning bugs as we called them. We anticipated seeing the first one of the evening, and then the game was to try to catch as many as possible and put them in the bell jars where they could create a lantern. Unfortunately, by the next morning, they were usually dead. Today fewer fireflies exist and maybe my generation of kids just collected too many.

I remember fondly those summer nights and the love that my parents showed to family and neighbors all times of the year. As a kid, living was easy.

One area of my identity that I embody frequently but do not talk about much is being a musician. I use that description carefully as I consider myself very much an amateur. Nevertheless, I love making music, and I get to do that year around as a member of the Estes Park Village Band.

I have been an active musician for over three decades while living in North Carolina and now Estes Park. I have been a member of several community bands.

 A community band is an instrumental ensemble that usually includes woodwinds, brass, and percussion. The members are local volunteers. These groups provide an accessible, low-pressure environment for musicians of all ages and skill levels to rehearse, perform, and connect with one another.

Our Village Band includes teenagers to retirees. Some individuals have been professional musicians, composers, and teachers. Others, like me, played growing up and then came back to music making in mid-adulthood. For over 30 years, I have enjoyed the camaraderie of other band members who love music.

Our “season” in Estes Park is primarily the spring into summer, although we always do a Christmas concert. We rehearse once a week and perform several times a year. We perform mostly “crowd pleasers” such as marches, Broadway medleys, and light arrangements although we also tackle more challenging modern concert band music. We perform outdoors in the summer and at the local high school auditorium in the winter and spring. Our concerts are free with an invitation to donate if desired.

I play a cornet. It is like a trumpet but has a mellower sound. In 4^th grade when we started taking band lessons, I did not choose the cornet. There was one in my family that had belonged to my uncle David who passed away in a tractor accident. I inherited his cornet. If I could have chosen, I am not sure what would have been my first choice. I did play the French horn in high school as well and always loved it. However, upon my return to music-making, I knew I was not talented enough to make a musical contribution on a French horn. I enjoy playing trumpet parts.

Music evokes emotions in me. I recall some of the marches that I remember playing in high school. I have bittersweet memories when we play Christmas music that I know my mom loved. Tunes from classic Broadway musicals are always fun. I enjoy playing modern compositions too, as I am making new memories for myself.

The community band is both a social and artistic outlet. I am not a great musician and have no desire to be much better than someone who plays easy 2^nd or 3^rd parts, but I enjoy the opportunities.  I am proud to contribute to the cultural arts of our little town.

My feelings are mixed about the celebration of 250 years of being the United States of American. I will be glad when July 5 comes. Fortunately, this year also marks the 150-year birthday of my newly adopted state, Colorado, and I am proud to be a resident of the Centennial State.

I recognize the privilege I have as a US Citizen. I believe in the Constitution and the preamble statement: “We the People of the United States…do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.” To defend our Constitution, I believe we must protect the rights of everyone. I do not think we are doing a respectable job at this 250-year mark. I am deeply troubled.

I believe in the central tenets of our democratic republic. I love my country but am embarrassed by my federal government. I am chagrined by the cruel policies and disregard for the integrity of the law that today undermines progress made in the past 250 years.

I am a patriot in that I appreciate what my country has historically stood for and against. Loving my country, however, does not mean that I do not see the faults and mistakes made during these 250 years. We can always do better and that sentiment has made us great for the past two and a half centuries.

In 1976, looked forward to the celebration of the country’s bicentennial. That time was also politically contentious, but optimism prevailed in the idea that the coming years would be better. I had returned from living in Turkiye on an exchange program the year before. Living in a developing country where the residents saw the US as a beacon of hope humbled me. I recognized what a privilege I had as an American. Upon my return, and to this day, The Star-Spangled Banner always brings tears to my eyes. I cannot support, however, the malice and absurdity of our current national government.

I am an unabashed defender of kindness, learning, decency, science, diversity, justice, social solidarity, and empathy. I believe as Barak Obama noted recently, “It is our greatest inheritance, the story of America at its best, because it reflects a basic faith in the decency of our fellow citizens and the possibility that despite all of our differences, we can see each other and understand one another and make common cause together.”

I cannot let this 250-year celebration come without noting my hope as well as my concern for the rhetoric and actions of the government. I celebrate what has guided our country in the past and the hope for a much better future.

I will celebrate our nation’s founding despite my concerns. I will play the patriotic songs with passion at our 4th of July band concert Saturday night. I will recommit to how important the November midterms will be. I will not let the current predicament spoil the holiday and will continue to believe in the basic principles of civility and humanity that provide the foundation for our country.